


sometimes you only get one chance

by bageldiscourse



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Developing Relationship, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Polyamory Negotiations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-05-31 18:09:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19431349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bageldiscourse/pseuds/bageldiscourse
Summary: Loving Tyson and J.T. comes as easy as taping a new hockey stick; it’s easy and it’s simple because it’sthem, and nothing feels more right.(A relationship study in three and a half parts.)





	sometimes you only get one chance

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by [Bluejay141519](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bluejay141519/pseuds/Bluejay141519) in the [PuckingRare2019](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/PuckingRare2019) collection. 



> thought it would be interesting to write snapshots of this relationship from three angles in alexander's POV: beginning, middle, end. 
> 
> i hope you all enjoy!

**IN THE BEGINNING . . .**

Alexander wears his heart on his sleeve, gets it bruised and broken and messily put back together again because he never stops believing in the sentiment of true love.

(Growing up Alexander was quiet, observant. He liked taking things apart, breaking them down into simple fractions of a whole until they were, at their core, simple. It’s the reason he spent most nights helping make dinner in the kitchen with his mother, why he took an immediate liking to ice hockey the first time his parents put him in skates.)

It should have come as no surprise that he fell in love with his two roommates within a few months of moving in with them. The two of them are wrapped up into every part of Alexander’s daily life: he wakes up and has breakfast with them, drives to morning skate with them, even rooms with one of them on the road. When he thinks about hockey he thinks about J.T. and he thinks about Tyson, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

For a long time—about a season and a half, for those keeping track at home—Alexander was able to tuck any romantic feelings he has for J.T. and Tyson into a far corner of his mind, focus his attention instead on more imperative priorities like winning hockey games and making sure the three of them mix in a healthy meal as much as possible.

But then the Avalanche really started to lean into the whole, like, _best mates_ thing on social media and the fans couldn’t get enough of it, and it was all just—a lot.

Almost like a punishment, a chemical reaction fizzing out of control until it inevitably spills over and Alexander’s left to clean up the mess on his own. Because they would never—

It just wouldn’t happen. His life is not so storybook-perfect and these things just don’t happen to him.

(Sometimes, though—

Alexander will look too closely at the way J.T. smiles every time Alexander wakes up early to make them pancakes before practice, and think _maybe._

Maybe.)

**THEN,**  
  
Alexander is in the kitchen making dinner, J.T. sitting at the counter and streaming Tyson’s game. He’s propped up his laptop, angled so they can both see, and every once in awhile Alexander will lift his head from what he’s cooking to catch Tyson’s shifts.

(Tyson getting sent down has been hard on all of them, but they’ve watched every game of his they could, sometimes texting him encouraging things as they watch and sometimes just going over his play over the phone with him, and Alexander finds it helps him and J.T. as much as it does Tyson.)

Tonight he’s making pasta with kale and sausage, because it’s easy and doesn’t require much attention. He’s in the process of combining everything into the same pan when something makes him look up, just for a second. He looks over to J.T., who’s looking intently at the screen and following Tyson’s strides, before Alexander follows his gaze and watches, too.

What he’s trying to say here is—they both watch the moment that Tyson is crushed into the boards by one of the other team’s defenders.

J.T. makes a small noise like the air’s been punched out of him, and Alexander feels frozen in place, sick to his stomach watching as Tyson goes down the tunnel gingerly and play continues.

It’s silent in the room for so long that Alexander can hear both his and J.T.’s breathing, and then finally J.T. says, “He’ll—I’m sure he’ll be fine.” 

“Worst-case, it’s a concussion; best-case, he’s just a little banged up from the hit but he’ll be good to go in a week or so,” Alexander says, and it doesn’t come out as optimistic as he was aiming for.

He scrolls through Twitter for a bit, against his better judgement, but none of the Avs or Eagles beat writers have tweeted an update on how Tyson’s doing, so he closes the app and stares at the blank wall in front of him instead.

An hour later, Tyson FaceTimes him. “Hey, guys,” he says, as soon as Alexander picks up with J.T. hovering close behind; he looks tired, but still happy to see them, and his left shoulder is in a sling. So—it could be much worse, really.

“You’re okay,” Alexander says, before thinking through a more eloquent greeting.

“All good, Kerfy,” Tyson confirms. “Stop looking so worried.”

Underneath the stubborn is a boy who’s afraid of being loved, Alexander knows. With this in mind, he shrugs and says, “I always worry about you,” easy as anything.

“Well,” Tyson says, and doesn’t finish the thought.

“Hey, so, when you get back Kerfy’s gonna make that cauliflower thing we all love,” J.T. says, putting on a smile that tries not to be too performative. It’s a subject change they all need; Tyson says, “I swear, you’re the only person I know who could make me look forward to eating veggies,” and Alexander says, _you’re telling me that like it’s a bad thing_ , and they talk about how weird it is to be apart, even if only for a few weeks.

Everything feels less upside-down by the time Tyson falls asleep without hanging up and Alexander and J.T. just—keep him on, for a while.

The Avs win some games and they lose some while Tyson’s gone, the days starting to bleed together in Alexander’s head because they’re not the same without Tyson on his wing or at least by his side on the bench during games.

Tyson gets recalled and settles back into his room three weeks later, and it’s like a weight lifted off their shoulders, a lighter feeling in the air when the three of them sit down for breakfast before practice like they’d gotten so used to doing all season.

It’s an off day, so after practice they mostly chill around the house, Alexander putting Tyson’s laundry in with his own because Tyson lets his pile up until he’s down to his last clean pair of boxers, and it drives Alexander up the wall. J.T. naps while Alexander cooks dinner, and they eat on the couch because there’s nobody around to tell them no, but more realistically because Alexander brings over an entire roll of paper towels and two Tide pens, just in case.

“Josty, hey,” J.T. says, getting his attention before saying, “missed you.” Alexander catches the way there’s no bite to it, no tease; the sincerity of his words catch both him and Tyson off-guard, apparently, because he notices Tyson hesitate, as if he was prepared for a flippant comeback to J.T.’s chirp.

“Missed you too, Comph,” Tyson says, letting himself smile softly. “I missed you _both_. It’s good to be home.”

He says _it’s good to be home_ like he belongs here, like he doesn’t belong anywhere else but nestled in between Alexander and J.T. on their overpriced IKEA couch watching old reruns of 90s cartoons and passing around a pint of ice cream and one spoon. It makes Alexander’s heart race, to think about how the three of them have created a _home_ , and not just a place to eat and sleep in between time spent at rinks and in planes and hotel rooms.

Instead of taking the risk of emptying a verbal bucket of feelings everywhere, Alexander says, “Yeah, yeah, I missed you too. Pass me the ice cream, though?”

Tyson makes a show of rolling his eyes but does as he’s told, and then the moment passes, but Alexander lingers over _home_ for the rest of the night.

**AND NOW —**

J.T.’s out grocery shopping, and Alexander and Tyson are sitting on the couch with the TV still playing the cooking show J.T. was watching before he left, when Alexander decides to bite the bullet and tell Tyson how he feels.

Alexander tries to come up with a way to start this conversation in a way that isn’t _hey, we need to talk_ because if he were Tyson, he’d start to expect the worst. And that’s, hopefully, not where this conversation is headed. He thinks about it for a long time before finally settling on, “Hey, I have something to tell you. It’s—I mean, pretty serious?”

God, once he hears the way it sounds he thinks it might’ve been _worse_ than its alternative. Tyson straightens up and says, “Everything okay?”

“I like you, okay?” Alexander says, a rush of words that jumble together, a shaky statement in between one breath and the next that couldn’t be anything but the confession he’s been holding in for—fuck, _years_ , at this point. “Both of you. I _like_ you.”

Tyson’s eyebrows furl into this half-confused expression, but there’s mostly vulnerability behind it, if Alexander lets himself believe. Slowly, he asks, “Well, yeah. I’m your best bro, right?”

Alexander wants to laugh more than he wants to cry, now, because—how much clearer does he have to _be_. Tyson’s always been a little bit clueless, though; it wouldn’t surprise Alexander if he had to spell it out for him. _I’m telling you that I have a crush on you, Josty_ , he can already hear himself saying in a few minutes.

“That is so, _so_ not what I meant,” Alexander says, and to prove his point, he leans closer to Tyson and brushes the stray curls out of Tyson’s face, gentle as always. He settles his hand on the curve of Tyson’s hip and meets Tyson’s fervent gaze. “I’ll give you a hint,” he continues, his voice dropping a little lower, and it all feels so intimate that Alexander realizes he’s really doing this, that there’s no going back from this moment no matter what happens next. “I think a lot about my hands in your hair, you sitting in my lap.” The room is so quiet that Alexander hears Tyson’s breath hitch, an unmistakable thing. “I think about sleeping in your bed—and not-sleeping in your bed.” He talks slow, giving Tyson an out if he wants it; an out Tyson never takes, instead worrying at his lip and trying to contain a smile, his eyes so obviously following Alexander’s lips more than his eyes. “Think about kissing you when you wake up and can’t string together a full sentence before you’ve had your sugary coffee.”

Alexander hesitates, for a minute, before he continues. “If it’s not just me—if you feel the same way—I’d really like to kiss you.”

He waits, after that, wants Tyson to make the next move, and it’s just—quiet, for a moment. And then—

“Wait,” Tyson says, despite looking like he wants to do anything but. “We should—wait. For J.T.”

Right. They should wait. Whenever Alexander let himself think about a moment like this, it’s always the three of them; it wouldn’t feel right without J.T. here with them.

Alexander nods, scoops Tyson’s hand with his own and threads their fingers together; for the time being, it’s more than enough.

“For the record, though,” Tyson says, after they’ve settled into watching some movie that looks interesting enough after they’ve flipped channels a bit—“It’s not.”

“It’s not what?”

“Not just you,” Tyson says, and he’s _blushing_ , which would’ve been more than enough confirmation of what Alexander hopes he’s talking about. “We can ask later, but—I don’t think it’s just me, either.”

“Oh,” Alexander says, feeling kind of dazed. “That’s—yeah. Good to know.”

Almost as if on cue, J.T. walks through the door not more than seconds later. “‘Sup,” he says, dropping off the bags in the kitchen before he sits on the couch next to Tyson; it paints an all too familiar picture, Alexander notices. “Something wrong? You guys look—tense.”

“Actually,” Tyson says, “there’s something we wanted to talk to you about.”

“Sure, anything,” J.T. says, earnest.

“Do you have a crush on us? Like—both of us?” Tyson asks, point-blank, which isn’t exactly the way Alexander would’ve done things, but. Whatever gets the job done, or something like that.

J.T. must cycle through a full spectrum of expressions in the time it takes him to think of his response, before he finally settles on, “Have for awhile, actually. Did you—was I that obvious?”

“Not at all,” Alexander says quickly. “We just—us too, I guess?”  
  
And J.T. looks—genuinely surprised, is the thing, which should be anything but endearing, but. It really is. “For real?” he asks, and Alexander has to suppress a laugh so as not to ruin the moment.

“Definitely for real,” Tyson says, and then they’re all just kind of—staring at each other, trying to figure out where they go from here but also probably all thinking the same thing, which is that their two best friends are in love with him and he’s in love with them too, and there are few situations better than the one they’re in right now.

“So are we—” J.T. says, pauses. “Are we doing this?”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific about what ‘this’ means,” Alexander says, because like. Communication is important, and they may only be a few years removed from college, but they need to be serious about this.

“Like. Are we all gonna date each other?”

“I mean, I think that’s where this is headed,” Alexander confirms.

“Fuck yeah we are,” Tyson says, breaking out into a smile Alexander can tell he’s been holding in since J.T. got home.

“It’s not—that I don’t _want_ to,” J.T. says, and he’s frowning a little, so Tyson rests his head on J.T.’s shoulder, warm and steadying, and Alexander likes looking at the two of them together like that. Thinks he could get used to it, even, though he may be thinking too far ahead with that. “Just. What happens when we go home for the summer? Is this just—put on hold?”

“We forget all about each other,” Tyson deadpans. “This relationship expires in June.”

“We’ll Skype,” Alexander promises, firm. “I couldn’t forget you two if I tried.”

“We can always go on vacation somewhere together,” Tyson says, more seriously this time. “Lock our phones in a safe and go anywhere in the world where nobody knows who we are and just—hang out, for a few weeks.”

J.T.’s quieter, when he says, “You really think we can make this work?”

“I don’t know,” Alexander says, because it isn’t worth it to lie through his teeth and say everything will be just fine. “But I know that it’s worth a try. I believe in us, okay?”

“Yeah,” J.T. says, after a long pause where Alexander tries—and fails—to tell what he’s thinking. “Yeah, I do too.”

“Can one of you kiss me now,” Tyson says, a little petulant but mostly eager.

“Hm,” Alexander says, pretending to study a watch on his arm until Tyson’s grin turns into a full-blown laugh. “I think I can pencil you in, yeah.” And then the best part comes, when Alexander curls a hand around the nape of Tyson’s neck to pull him in for a kiss, gentle but commanding; Tyson responds immediately, his hands fisting in Alexander’s shirt and gasping into his mouth, happy to let Alexander lead the way.

It’s too easy to get lost in kissing Tyson, Alexander nearly forgets about J.T. completely. When he finally pulls away from Tyson, J.T.’s looking at the two of them so fondly that Alexander nearly looks away, because it’s like looking into the _sun_ , but—he lets himself look, unable to help himself from smiling before he pulls J.T. into a kiss that would feel a lot like coming home no matter where in the world they would be.

**(ALWAYS:**

Loving Tyson and J.T. comes as easy as taping a new hockey stick; it’s easy and it’s simple because it’s _them_ , and nothing feels more right.)

**Author's Note:**

> i drafted this literally 20 minutes before the tr*d* and if anyone's wondering i'm. not coping.
> 
> anyway toss me a pity like + comment because the NHL broke up another set of my roommates!!!!!


End file.
